


Where Storms and Stars Come From

by oratorio



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Het, Prompt Fill, Sex in the ocean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris cannot believe that Marian Hawke is dragging him around the Wounded Coast on the hottest day of the year, looking for a flower...  He also cannot believe she would strip to her smalls in front of him and dive into the ocean to cool off.  He's sticky and uncomfortable in the heat and would love to join her, except the shame he feels about his body and his markings prevents him.  Hawke soon realises what is going on, and tries her best to show him how beautiful she thinks he is.</p><p>One Shot.  M for some rather fluffy smut.  First time for Fenris with Hawke (and possibly ever, as far as he can remember).<br/>Title from the poem Young Sea by Carl Sandburg.  Other words are mine, the characters and the world belong exclusively to BioWare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Storms and Stars Come From

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a kmeme prompt which asked for:
> 
> "some hot, passionate smut in water." with "awkward!Fenris, playing off the 'Questioning Beliefs' quest where he admits that as far as he remembers, he's never been with anyone."  
> I also tried to work in the request for "F!Hawke ravishing his sensitive markings and reassuring him that he really is quite sexy"

Andraste’s flaming arse but she was sick of the Wounded Coast.  It all looked the same – an endless expanse of dry, grubby-looking sand and prickly shrubs.  Hawke had no idea why she kept agreeing to come out here.  She sighed deeply.  If only there were some Kirkwall citizens actually prepared to do their own dirty work.

Not that this particular task was dirty, she mused.  Solivitus had asked her to find him a plant for one of his potions.  The herbalist never left The Gallows where he had a small stall, and relied on others to bring him his ingredients.  Hawke had used his potions often enough, so had felt obliged to agree when he had begged her to look for some Harlot’s Blush.  Stupid name, Hawke had thought, but here she was trailing around poking at bushes.  She just wished he had asked earlier, when she had had other tasks in the area to fulfil.  Maker knew, she felt foolish trekking all the way out here, faithful Fenris in tow, just to pick a bloody _flower_.

And it had to be one of the hottest days of the year, the sun beating down on their uncovered heads, drawing all the strength from her legs faster than a mage could paralyse.  She glanced at Fenris, sweating in the heat, looking grouchy and fed up.  Hawke could hardly blame him.  Flower-picking wasn’t exactly the lissom warrior’s forte – he was the closest to being happy when decapitating slavers or pulling the still-beating heart from the chest of a blood mage.  She felt a stab of guilt for asking him to join her, but he _had_ said once before that he enjoyed following her, so she hadn’t hesitated.

She had to admit other reasons for seeking him out.  Yes, he was a fearless fighter, always ready to have her back in any battle.  She’d never known the likes of his skill in combat – he was wild, ferocious, taking enemies apart in blazing pirouettes of muscle, steel and lyrium.  She smiled to herself as she came to the real reason for his company today.  Maker, but Fenris was beautiful.  He was sculpted, glorious, _terrifying_ in his power and steely determination.  His body was that of a well-honed weapon, all toned muscle and sinew, narrow waist and strong thighs, and arms that were whipcord-lean but could wield a sword as tall as a man and sever a neck as easy as breathing.  His skin was marked with lyrium, burned into him by his former master in a ritual both cruel and agonising.  She knew he hated his brands, hated the constant reminder of the pain of their creation and of the life he had lived as a slave.  She had seen him physically flinch if others so much as let their gaze drift over his markings.  She had never really spoken to him of his body, the way it had been used, but she could see all too well the shame in his eyes when others stared, lingered too long on his unusual appearance.

And Maker, his _eyes_.  Both fierce and profound, they could burn with the passion of fury or echo with the sorrow of loss and loneliness.  She had seen them dance with the sparks of his rage as he powered through his enemies or spoke of magisters, and she had fallen into their bottomless depths as he had brokenly remembered his escape from Seheron and the blood on his hands as he obeyed his master one final time.  Either way, his eyes had captured her heart – olive green, like the moss that continues to grow in the deepest shades of the forest, and always intense with all the emotions running through his soul.  Fenris spoke few words, but often did not need to.

He was speaking now, though, and Hawke blushed as she realised she had not been listening, hopelessly lost in a daydream about the very man walking beside her.

“I’m sorry Fenris, what was that?  Must be getting a bit of heatstroke,” she fanned herself desperately, flushing pink.

Fenris rolled his eyes.  “I was saying how ridiculous this is.  It’s not like we don’t have anything better to do.  I can’t believe we are both out here wasting time on herbs while the Qunari are causing so much unrest back in the City.”

“You didn’t _have_ to come.”

“And leave you to wander around in the wilderness on your own?  You know nobody else would have humoured you on this matter, I must be some kind of fool.”

“I’m a big girl, Fenris, I could have looked after myself.  But I’m glad you are here.”

Fenris snorted and they continued in silence for what felt like miles, although was probably only about ten minutes in the heat.

“There!”  Hawke pointed at the little flower poking out of some rocks near a cave entrance.  “I think that’s it!”

“You _think?_   You mean you’re not even sure what this thing looks like?”  Fenris was incredulous.

“No, I’m… pretty sure.  It looks about right.  Small, blue, tall thin stem.  Yes, I’m sure this is the right plant.”

“Why is it called harlot’s blush if it’s blue?”

“I’ve no idea, Fenris.  Let’s just grab it and get out of here.”

The flower was safely tucked into an inside pocket of Hawke’s tunic and the overheated pair began the long trudge back to the city gates.

They hadn’t gone far when Hawke bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard.

“Maker’s breath, Fenris, but I can’t remember ever being this sweaty.  My breeches are _chafing_ something terrible.”

Fenris let out a strangled cough.

“Would you mind if we stop for a quick dip in the ocean?  I can’t go on like this, honestly, I’m boiling from the inside out.”

“If you must, but I will remind you that it’s your fault we are here.”

“I _know_ that, Fenris, and I’m sorry.  I had no idea it would be this hot.”

“Come on, then.”

Hawke led the way to a small inlet where the waves were lapping gently against the shore.  She desperately needed to cool down, her leather and steel tunic sticking to her clammy skin, her breeches damp and clinging painfully to the sensitive soft skin of her thighs.

She would not normally disrobe so recklessly in front of another, especially a man with whom she was helplessly infatuated.  But she was so uncomfortable, and the sea looked so refreshing and inviting...

She threw her armour to the ground carelessly and ran towards the waves, clad only in her smallclothes, shrieking as her toes hit the cold water, a shock to the system after spending the entire afternoon slowly cooking in the oppressive heat.  She pressed on, up to her waist, her shoulders, shivering and squealing as the chill of the water sent questing tendrils over her skin, over delicate parts of her anatomy, her belly button, her nipples. Finally she was fully covered by the fresh coolness of the sea and flipped to lay flat on her back, floating, gazing up at the infinite blue sky.

“Are you not coming in, Fenris?”

The warrior was standing on the edge of the sand, shifting uncomfortably from one leg to the other, trying hard not to stare at her exposed body spread out in front of him, the water slowly turning her breastband transparent.

“I… don’t think so, Hawke.”

“But this is wonderful, and you look so hot and bothered!”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Before she could question what she was doing, high on the simple delight of the bite of the ocean, Hawke rose from the water and stepped purposely towards the elf, one hand outstretched to pull him into the sea.

 

* * *

 

Fenris gulped, eyes widening.  She strolled towards him nonchalantly, swaying her hips, half naked in her soaking wet underclothes, water cascading from her hair, her skin, shining golden in the late afternoon sunlight.  The shape of her body, her neat waist, strong legs, her rounded breasts, normally hidden under layers of cloth and leather and iron. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, _surely this was not happening_.  But no, she was taking him by the hand, her fingers solid in his, as real as he was.

She was stripping off his gauntlets, dropping them to the sand with a _clang_ , while he could only stand and gape at her helplessly, frozen to the spot with shock and a sudden desire that tore through his body, an unfamiliar feeling but – he thought with surprise – not unwelcome.

His hands, bare now, began to pull at his own armour, lost in the moment, in this woman standing before him smelling of sun and sweat and salt water.  Lifted his chestpiece from his body, discarding it in the pile of leather and metal already at his feet.  Began to fumble at the straps holding his tunic in place… unwrapping himself as she stared at him as if he were _prey,_ her tongue running slowly over her top lip.

And then he halted, his mind finally catching up to his body, crashing into his thoughts with his more usual sense of self-preservation.

_What am I doing?  Have I lost my mind?_

“Hawke.  I’m sorry, I… I will join you, but please, I do not want you to see me.”

“What do you mean?”  Her eyes were glazed and she struggled to comprehend his words.

“Go back into the water.  Please.  Do not face me, I will follow you.”

Her brow furrowed, her eyes concerned, but she nodded quickly and turned back to the shoreline, walking slowly away from him with shoulders slumped.

Fenris swallowed hard and quickly stripped off the rest of his armour, hurrying into the water behind her without any hesitation, submerging his body as quickly as he could beneath the waves.

 

* * *

 

“Can I turn around now?”

“You may.”

Hawke spun round gently in the eddy of the surf, gazing softly at Fenris as he held himself carefully beneath the deep blue water, only his head and the tops of his shoulders fully visible.

She sighed at the vulnerability on his face, the tension in his neck muscles. She had already guessed what this was all about, and she would not let him continue thinking the way he did about himself.  Maker, she had seen the _want_ in his eyes, just for a moment before he had drawn down the shutters, and it had nearly undone her.

“Fenris.”  She spoke softly, looking him directly in the eye.

“Hawke.”

“I need you to know something.”

“This sounds ominous.”

She sighed.  This was impossible.  She pressed on.

“Fenris, I see the way you flinch from me.  You don’t need to do that.”

He looked away from her quickly, shame and embarrassment flushing his features.

“Fenris, please.  Don’t run.  Listen to me, _please_.”  She cringed inwardly at her words, her desperate pleading.

“You have me trapped here, Hawke, I hardly have any choice in the matter.”

She frowned, surprised at his choice of words before she realised he was anxious to leave but did not want to be _seen_.

She swam slowly towards him, trying to ignore the fear on his face,  the tautness in his body as he ached to recoil from her.

“Fenris, you are beautiful.  You should not hide from anyone, let alone me.  I am your friend and I care for you more than you know.  And I think you are the most magnificent man I have ever seen.  Everything about you is exquisite.”

He had closed his eyes, muscles working hard in his jaw.  She took a deep breath, continued.

“Nobody else could ever compare to you, Fenris.”

She was by his side, could feel his skin _thrumming_ through the waves, the tension in his body setting off his brands so they shimmered softly underwater, turning the sea silver like a liquefied mirror.

“How _could_ you?”  He opened his eyes suddenly, stormy and feral, spitting the words like poisoned arrows from his tongue.  She winced at his tone, drew back, confused.

“How dare you say such words to me, such falsehoods?  If you are trying to make me feel worthy, then you are a fool.  Do you not think I can see myself for what I am?  These… hideous disfigurements, scars, they are _all over_ me.  They have changed me.  I am no man, I am but a beast.  Take your pathetic lies and leave me alone.  I do not need your pity.”

Hawke stilled in horror, his outburst penetrating her heart as surely as if he had run her through with his sword.  Her throat constricted, tears threatening to choke her.  She had known the elf was self-conscious, but had had no idea of the depth of his self-hatred.  She suddenly wanted to tear out Danarius’ throat herself.

She gazed in silence at Fenris who was clearly shuddering under the water, arms wrapped around himself and looking everywhere but at her.  She had no idea what to say to him, how to still his shivers, how to apologise for her gauche and unwanted compliments, how to prove to him that, even so, they were not lies.

She could hardly believe what actually came out of her mouth next, reflexively spouting from her lips as if she had no control of her thoughts.

“Oh, Fenris, but I love you.”

Her eyes widened at the exact moment his did the same, raising his head to meet her gaze once more, green eyes brimming with hurt and pain and… could that be hope?

“You…?”

He couldn’t say more than that, but the question was written all over his face.

“Maker help me, Fenris, I am so in love with you and I never wanted you to find out like this, all I had wanted to do was to help you relax by telling you how beautiful you are to me, but it all went wrong and I am so sorry.  I want you to know that every word I have said is true, no sympathy involved, just how I feel.  I really am sorry for being so tactless.  Can you forgive me?”

“Perhaps you could apologise a bit more.”

“I don’t know how, how to make it right.  I would do anything to change what I said, what hap-”

His lips were on hers, cutting off her sentence abruptly.  She felt his arms snake around her waist, pulling her towards him through the water.  She sighed against his mouth, feeling his tongue probing against her as her lips parted.  She melted against him, slipping through the waves to press her body against his wet skin, leaning into the kiss, deepening it.

His hands were on her hips, slippery fingers gliding up her body, to her waist, the sensitive skin on her sides.  She gasped as she felt him move one hand inwards, brushing against the curve of her breast, the lightest of touches against her soaked breastband.

She ran her fingers along his markings, etched silver into his tanned skin, looking deep into his eyes for approval as she touched him.  He murmured softly against her lips and pressed his hips against her, wordless consent for her to continue her ministrations.

She lowered her lips to his neck, his shoulder, tracing the lines visible there, whispering all the time how _beautiful_ , how _handsome,_ how _wonderful_ he was.  He trembled beneath her, heartbreakingly vulnerable to her words, the strong warrior exposed in a way he never was in battle, his emotions clear in the stance of his body, the barely-held tears in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_Nobody has ever wanted me before._

Fenris could barely control himself as she ran her tongue along his salt-wet skin and breathed such overwhelming phrases into his ear.

He had looked at her levelly as she had told him she loved him – _loved_ him – and he had listened intently to her words, seen the expressions on her face as she gazed at him, and oh, he had believed her.  _She loved him_.  She thought him beautiful.  That such a woman could feel that for him was beyond his wildest imagination.

And now she was wrapping her thighs around his waist, moving with the current of the water against his body, loose-limbed and sensuous.  He knew he was hard beneath the surface, her heat brushing lightly against him, sending new and unbelievable feelings surging through his veins.  He felt his breath stuttering, his heart thumping in his chest.  He felt aroused, excited, _terrified_.

She looked up at him, eyes hooded with lust.

“Are you OK?”

He blinked at her, shyly.  “Yes.  Marian, I…”

“Hmm?”

“I have never… I mean, I don’t have any memory of ever being… close to anyone, not since…”  His voice trailed off, lamely.

She smiled at him, a dazzling sight in his arms.  “Relax, Fenris.  Just be yourself.”

He pressed another kiss to her lips, stifling the joyful sob that tried to escape him.

 

* * *

 

Hawke guided his hands to her breastband, encouraging his hesitant fingers.  Maker, he was so athletic and graceful in battle, and so clumsy and fumbling against her body.  She had not known what to expect from the warrior, but inexperience had not been something she had considered.

She had to admit a thrill ran through her at the thought of being the first in his memory to touch him, to feel him hard against her.  She tried an experimental wriggle into his groin and felt a rush of desire as she heard him emit a guttural growl, thrusting inelegantly through the water, seeking the slick friction of her wet body.

Her smallclothes floated away in the waves as his hands replaced the rough fabric, squeezing her breasts inexpertly.  She patiently took his hand, showing him how to touch her, how to stroke _just like that_ , moaning softly as he found the right pressure, the right way to tease.

“Now your mouth,” she whispered as he eagerly bent his head to her chest, taking her breasts in turn between his soft lips, running his tongue across them in the same light way she had shown him with his fingers, tasting salt and seaweed and the warmth of her skin, the stiffness of her nipples.  She arched her back, her body rearing out of the water, pushing against his questing tongue.

She moved one hand beneath the water to tug at his smallclothes, pulling them down his thighs as he wriggled free, stroking his cock with one finger from base to tip as he tautened his entire body against her, quivering at her touch.  She curled her fingers around his shaft, the sea water making it easy for her to slide her hand fully along his length, skin soft and velvety over the hard iron of his erection.  She kissed him again, fierce and passionate as she worked her hand over his cock.  Fenris moaned urgently into her mouth as he ground against her, dragged his fingers over her breasts, down her belly, down to the heat between her legs.

Then his fingers were touching her core, hot in the cold sea, wet with the salty water and glistening with her own juices.  She leaned over and whispered into his ear, then arched her back in pleasure as he smiled and complied, pushing two fingers into her centre, curling them gently and finding the sweetness inside her, _just there_.  She groaned, losing herself in the feel of his fingers, his thumb circling her nub, one arm pulling her tight against his lean body, the sensation of his cock twitching and ready for her, just for her. 

_Oh, I need to feel him inside me._

She felt as if her whole world had shrunk to this moment, the two of them, waves lapping around their bodies as they joined together.

 

* * *

 

Fenris was speechless with awe as he held Hawke against him, her naked, wet body slippery and shining in his arms, the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hot wet heat on his fingers, the way her muscles clamped down on him, making him draw a shaky breath at the thought of being inside her, feeling that sensation on his shaft as he entered her…

_Maker, I need to._

She moved above him as if she had heard his thoughts, positioning herself so that the head of his cock was at her entrance, pushing against her lightly.

And then, one shift of her hips and he was inside her, pushing deeper, feeling her constrict around him, the burning heat of her desire, the extraordinary wetness of her arousal.  He lost his thoughts for a moment, could only _feel_ as he began to move, slowly, reverently, wanting to make the moment last.

He became aware that he was muttering in Arcanum, telling her how he needed her, how amazing she felt, how beautiful she was, how she made him feel _alive_ , that he only ever wanted her, for as many days as they could have together.  He knew she couldn’t comprehend his words, but he could see from her eyes that she understood the intent, the sheer intensity of his feelings.

She was whimpering into his neck, her hands sliding over his skin, his markings, and for the first time in his life he did not flinch at another’s touch, actually took pleasure in the feel of her fingers tracing the patterns of his silvered lyrium scars.

He increased his pace as he felt his stomach clench, closed his eyes and fought for control, needed _more_ , mustn’t stop now, this can’t be over yet.

She reached a hand between them, drawing a hiss from his throat as he felt her hand brush his cock where he was driving into her, then she was pressing her fingers against her nub, sending her over the edge.  He felt her ripple over his shaft, pulsing against him, and he cried out as he slammed into her harder, racing towards his own imminent peak.

He arched against her, shouting wordlessly as he came, the most incredible feeling of his life as he spilled himself deep inside her, his cock throbbing and convulsing as waves of pleasure flowed through his entire body, weakening his muscles and leaving him wobbly on his feet, buffeted by the waves.

They clung to each other in wonder, breathless and overcome with emotion.  He felt a deep twist of joy as he gazed into her eyes, shining with love and tears of happiness.

He sighed.  “Marian.  That was better than anything I could have dreamed.”

“Oh Fenris.  I am the happiest woman in Thedas right now.”

She smiled up at him, nestled in his arms, and he quietly admitted to himself that he knew exactly how she felt.

**Author's Note:**

> * - (C) Young Sea by Carl Sandburg, from Chicago Poems (1916)  
> All other characters and the world owned by Bioware. Plus my undying gratitude for making such an awesome game.


End file.
